


What shall we do with the Drunken Sailor

by destinysbastard



Category: Supernatural
Genre: !!!, AKA, BDSM, Bondage, Captain Castiel, Captain Castiel Smith is not having it, Captain and sailor AU, Captain!Castiel, Dean Winchester is a drunk, Dom!Castiel Smith, Dominant, Dubious Consent, Figging, Kinda, M/M, Past physical abuse, Piss kink, Public Humiliation, Punishment, Sailor AU, Sailor Dean Winchester, Sailor!Dean Winchester, Sexual Punishment, Spanking, Sub Dean, Sub!Dean Winchester, Submissive, Tags will be added, Tension, alcoholic!Dean Winchester, and a bit of a sadist, and a cocky sailor, dom Cas, drunken sailor verse, dub-con, enemy sex, establishing dominance, have fun, he's kinda frustrated, idek what happened here, not really enemies but ya know, old-fashion butt plug, pissing, sailor!Castiel, sub/dom, tying him up, unreasonable drinking, what shall we do with the drunken sailor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-02-16 15:34:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13056897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destinysbastard/pseuds/destinysbastard
Summary: Captain Smith is a man who demands respect from his crew. And certainly, regularly getting drunk and cocky doesn't count as 'respect'. So he decides to put the troublemaker with the pretty eyes in his place. (That's Dean.)Drunken Sailor verse - Destiel Captain/Sailor AU





	1. Put him in the Longboat 'till he's sober

**Author's Note:**

> This came to me when I was on a boat. I've finally found the discipline to get the first chapter done. There will be quite a few more... Enjoy!
> 
> WARNINGS: Drinking, figging, DUB-CON, punishment

Here he was, Captain Smith, once successful and important leading seaman, now sailing to China to trade goods.

Not to be misunderstood – he was glad to be sailing and to have something to do. But it was nothing compared to the thrill of fighting for his country and feeling like he was fulfilling his true purpose – leading men to courage and helping his people with what he did best: sailing.

Nothing compared to that and Smith was not only nostalgically looking back to those times but also feeling a bit useless in comparison and frustrated with the change that had overtaken his days, as he had been blessed – or rather cursed, for that matter – with a new crew. A crew made of men who had (most of them, at least) never been to war, and some of whom were even just newly-trained sailors – resulting in a group which barely understood Smith’s passion as well as incontentment, and who could never compare to his past men, not in understanding, skill or discipline.

He ran his fingers along the darkish, calloused wood which he was leaning against. The rather calm waves were navigated smoothly, lulling him into an almost sleepy, thoughtful state of mind.

They were building all kinds of bigger, stronger ships nowadays; steam ships. Of course, progress was necessary, and steam ships would offer new advantages in combat.

Yet Castiel Smith would always prefer sailing ships, the ones that had carried him most of his life, had led him to many new places and helped him to success in his share of battles as well.

Many of the familiar sailing ships had an incredible speed, and the feeling of the wind in the sails above, the real experience of riding the waves, being _one_ with the waves, rather than taming them, it could never be replaced by anything. Not for Castiel Smith.

Something inbetween loud laughter and growling tore Captain Smith from his thoughts. He turned and, to no surprise, found Dean Winchester sitting there. Who knows how much he'd had already.

All the sailors enjoyed their drink in the evening, but Dean Winchester had never been like anyone else when it came to his drinks. On many occasions had he taken more than what was his rightful quantum; on top of that he'd never missed a chance to smuggle in some more alcohol for himself before going onboard, and after escapades of horrible stories that could only appeal to drunk men, he would keep drinking, resulting in a loud, foul-mouthed, disturbing and over-confident sailor, who was no longer useful and would be passed out 'till the morning, then not just making only half as good of a sailor, but also lowering everyone else's discipline along with his.

What should Captain Smith do with him? The journey would be a long one, and he couldn't just throw him off the boat, he had some honor left after all.

What he needed to do was discipline the younger man, to show him his place.

The salty water splashed up against the wooden edge of the ship, and Captain Smith inhaled the evening breeze, biding farewell to his little moment of peace.

„Winchester,“ he said in a tone of authority. „Cap'n.“

„I think you've had your fill for the night. You're being a disturbance.“

„On what grounds are ye accusing me of that?“ Winchester lulled at him.

„You're being loud, you're stumbling about, and I think everybody's had enough of your ghost stories.“

„Why dontcha ask them yourself?“

As Castiel looked into the faces of the men sitting around there all he saw was cowardness. He knew Winchester's arrogance was annoying them, but none of them would've admitted it. He looked back at the sailor in front of him and sighed. One last time, he was going to try and talk to him. _Be reasonable,_ he thought, _my punishments are anything but gentle._

„Behave, find your bed, do whatever you need to do to stop being so cocky. Or I'll have to show you your place,“ he said in an almost bored, matter-of-fact voice. Then he turned around and went to check in with helmsman for the night.

 

About an hour later, it seemed everyone had retreated to their bunks.

It was quiet and the creaking of the ship along with the soft waves were the only sounds Castiel could hear. As calming as those sounds were, he just couldn't sleep. He'd been struggling with falling asleep for quite a few weeks now; his mind strangely compensating at night for the rather boring days.

Sometimes he got up again and took a stroll around the ship. Had a drink, which he rarely did when his men were around, checked in on the night watches and made sure everything was going smoothly.

As he sat down to pour himself a drink, his eyes fell upon a body on the floor.

Of course it was Dean Winchester, passed out beneath the table. Captain Smith stood up again, moving to the other side of the table.

He couldn't _stand_ troublemakers like him. But that's why a part of Castiel loved to punish them, tame them...

Automatically reverting into an authorative pose, he cleared his throat. The Winchester did not stir.

So the captain lightly kicked his sailors leg, earning only a lazy moan from the man.

 _What shall we do with the drunken sailor?_ He thought to himself.

_Put him in a longboat 'till he's sober._

But that wouldn't really be an effective punishment, would it? Whether the sailor would spend the night here, on the dirty floor, or in a longboat really wouldn't make a big difference to a drunk like him.

What Smith needed was something to effectively show him that it was _not_ advisable to get cocky with the captain. A man like this one would need something very loud and very clear.

An idea dawned in the captain's mind... He quickly fetched a root of ginger from the kitchen, came back and sat down onto the bench right next to Dean Winchester, who seemed to slowly be coming to his senses again.

„Aye, cap'n,“ he slurred. „Ye watchin' over me?“

Castiel didn't reply, he just sat there and skinned the gingerroot, then carving it into a nicely shaped form: round in the front, rather thick and long.

He could feel the younger man watching him and as he glanced down at him, he couldn't help but stare for a moment. He had to admit, even now that he was drunk and stupid on the ground, those lush pink lips and piercing green eyes were quite a view. _Don't get distracted,_ Smith scolded himself, tearing his eyes away and finishing his little project.

„You get one last warning. Get up now, find your bed and start behaving like someone who deserves to be on my ship, and we can leave this all behind,“ Castiel said, coldly looking down at Dean.

The man on the floor just chuckled cockily. „Sorry, Cap'n, that ain' how I roll.“

Smith licked his lips and looked down at him another few seconds. „You're going to wish you'd obeyed me earlier,“ he just stated, before swiftly getting onto his knees and grabbing the man's hips to turn him to his side. At first, the Winchester was eager to keep teasing, asking what Smith was gonna do about it, but when Castiel pulled down the younger man's trousers, he went completely quiet for a moment. Then he started complaining in his incoherent drunk words; but Castiel just pushed apart his butt cheeks and found his hole, pushing in the neatly carved gingerroot.

The sailor's body tensed up and he hissed as the foreign object entered his backside, burning uncomfortably. Strength-wise he was no match for Castiel Smith, not in this condition anyway.

He was quick to find his words again though, spitting out slurs and filthy words while Captain Smith just calmly waited for him to be done with his profanities.

When the Winchester stopped talking – probably alienated by Smith's lack of reaction –, Castiel lost no time to push the gingerroot in deeper.

„You're going to sleep this out. And tomorrow you will show me respect,“ he stated collectedly, ending each sentence with another little push of the root, earning quite a few breathy groans from Dean.

He still felt him resisting. Leaning down low, right next to his ear, he said, voice low and steady, „Otherwise, as I've said, you _will_ regret it.“

After pulling his pants back up and then roughly dragging the Winchester up onto his feet, he easily walked the staggering sailor over to the longboats. He tied up his hands in front of him with a harsh piece of rope and pushed him into the longboat.

„Sweet dreams,“ he added sarcastically and the Winchester stared at him in confusion and anger – a lot of anger. He simply walked away, slurred insults following his steps. He was truly curious whether this would work, or if he'd have to make use of some more extreme measures.


	2. Pull out the plug and wet him all over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning Captain Smith discovers whether the punishment was effective or not... and Dean Winchester might just face the biggest humiliation he's ever felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: public humiliation, wetting, (piss kink - tho it doesn't really happen in a sexual way), butt plug, figging, punishment, dominance, submission

Early that morning, the light was bright, but the sky was grey.

As Captain Smith made his way up to the deck where he would round up his crew like every morning, curiosity arose within him. Was the lesson the Winchester had received enough?

Everybody was ready and awaiting him, as he walked right past them, greeting them sternly.

Their faces were showing confused looks, but they patiently waited for him, as he strolled over to the longboats and looked inside.

Dean Winchester was snoring freely, his face softened in a peaceful rest.

„Winchester!“ Smith shouted, startling the younger sailor awake immediately. He looked up in confusion and then irritation took over his features. Before he could say anything, the captain reached down and pulled him up, his hand then wrapping tightly around the ropes the Winchester's hands were still tied with.

The Winchester was struggling to break free of the Captain's hold, but Castiel Smith just stood there and looked at him with a cold, piercing stare.

„Tell me, Winchester, have you learned your lesson?“ he asked slowly.

There was no answer. Dean Winchester just stared at him, squaring up his shoulders, unwilling to let Smith make him feel any bit inferior.

_So cocky. So typical._

Due to the lack of compliance, Smith just turned around and made his way back to his crew, roughly pulling the Winchester along behind him.

All the men's faces were filled with different emotions – some of them just looked confused, others might have seemed more than a little satisfied to see the rude sailor punished, and others were a little scared, seeing just how exacting Captain Smith could be.

He was now standing in front of his men, Winchester next to him, at his very mercy, hands tied and body defiant.

„I'm positive we all know what this is about,“ Castiel spoke, his voice demanding. As he turned to look at the Winchester one more time, he lowered his voice a little and said, „It'd be smart to take this last chance, Winchester.“ At these words the younger sailor just scoffed.

„I will ask you one more time: have you learned your lesson?“ Castiel asked, slowly emphasizing each word, staring with intent.

Dean took his time as well as he, not once breaking eye contact, answered, „I don't do lessons.“

For a moment, Captain Smith just stared at him, wondering how exactly he'd turned out to be this way. Then he spoke, voice clear, „Well, you've never striked me as a smart one.“

That was the last comment before his hands harshly grabbed the younger sailor and turned him around. His movements now spoke much louder than any words he could've said. The Winchester struggled against his grip, fighting him with every bit of conviction, but the Captain wasn't just strong, he had a clear advantage with the Winchester's hands still being neatly tied together.

He felt himself being pushed down onto his knees and then his trousers were being pulled down. Curse words fell from his lips as he tried to fight Smith off, but he knew he didn't stand a chance. The stares of all of his fellow crew members pierced through him, pickling on his skin in an unpleasant manner - a feeling he'd rarely felt. Was it shame?

Castiel Smith was well aware of the horrified looks on his men's faces. It _was_ a harsh punishment, but not only was it necessary for this ill-mannered sailor to learn his place, it would be a rather effective method to discipline all the other men as well. He would not have to worry about any other sailor getting out-of-line when they'd all seen the possible results of such behaviour.

So, _What shall we do with the drunken sailor?_

_Pull out the plug and wet him all over._

He had pulled down the man's trousers, displaying that wonderful ass again, and the Winchester's „What the hell“ died right in his throat as Captain Smith pulled out the gingerroot. He knew it hurt, and he faintly smiled to himself as he heard the younger sailor hiss and groan at the sensation, oblivious to the fact that it would get so much worse.

One hand on the Winchester's back (he was now kneeling on all fours) to keep him in place, his other hand wandered to his own trouser, pulling them down to reveal his cock. It took him only a few seconds to relax enough for the warm liquid to start trickling out of his length and soon splashing onto the Winchester's raw behind.

It wasn't the easiest thing, relaxing and keeping the stream going while holding down the Winchester, but he managed, especially when the sailor's fight seemed to die down. He took it as a sign that the punishment was effective and a bit of contentment already settled within him, as he watched his piss trickling down in between the younger man's ass cheeks.

There was a stir within him – this wasn't just satisfying as an effective punishment, but _god_ that view was gorgeous, and he knew the picture of the Winchester's raw ass and his figure kneeling submissively in front of him would be burnt into his mind many a night.

As Dean felt the warm wet sensation on his ass, every last little bit of dignity he'd felt, every bit of persistance just dripped right out of him, as if washing away with the man's piss. He'd never felt so humiliated in his whole life, except maybe a few times by his father, but this was different: he was a grown man, thrown to the lowest esteem, in front of the whole crew.

There was no more. The stream had finished, at last; Castiel pulled his trousers back up, letting go of the Winchester.

„I'd say _now_ you've learned your lesson, wouldn't you?“ he asked, his voice almost casual – and it was so much worse than any authority or power he could have shown. In that at least there was respect. This casual tone, as if assuming there was not going to be any talk-back, that there wasn't any courage left on the other end, it felt so much worse than shouting or swearing to Dean. But the Captain was right. He wouldn't talk back, not in this moment, not when feeling like his last drop of dignity had just sank into the ocean, not now, that he truly started to believe that Castiel _could_ do worse.

„I asked you a question,“ Castiel's sharp voice rang through him. „Have you learned your lesson?“ he asked again, every word its own stab.

„ _Yes,_ “ Dean Winchester finally croaked, his voice heavy with humiliation and hatred.

Castiel just smiled contentedly, and turned to face his crew. Inwardly he laughed a little as he saw their faces, all pale and uncomfortable.

„Well, get to work.“

Everyone hurried off to their posts, and Castiel, with calm movements squatted down beside the Winchester. With a small, sharp knife, he cut the rope, freeing his hands, but the younger sailor did not make a move, did not look up at him. With one last glance, Castiel Smith strolled off, leaving Dean Winchester to pick himself up eventually.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, um.... I think I've reached a new something. Don't know what exactly, but... something. I don't think I've ever written a character as sadistic and authorative as Castiel Smith, and this is my first time writing public humiliation, so... Tell me what you felt, thought, liked, hated, and so on. I love feedback and I'm excited to see where this goes! (There will be smut, like, actual smut soon.)


	3. Take Him and Shake Him and Try to Awake Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Smith's harsh punishment Dean picks himself up and goes to his room. Smith might think he's won, but Dean is not done fighting.
> 
> WARNINGS: Feelings of shame, violation etc (not that explicit tho)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got back into this and actually finished the whole fic in one sitting. The next and last two chapters will be up soon! (I am heavily considering making a second series in this verse tho, you'll see...)  
> Smut coming REALLY soon! Enjoy!

If Dean had learned one thing over the years it was not to let people walk all over him. Growing up, he could not stop it from happening, but that left him with an even stronger desire to never again feel that way.

And here he was. On all fours, literal piss trickling down his backside, a feeling of shame that reminded him all too well of what he had buried deep down, underneath his big, broad ego; feelings of defeat, shame, if he'd known better he'd have used the word _violation_ , lingering somewhere untouched in years.

Until now.

The crew had scattered, not without curious or mischievous glances in his directions, making their way to their posts.

It took an embarrassingly long time for him to collect himself, but then he did; he pulled up his pants, noticing that his hands were shaking slightly, and then he got up, moving quickly to get to his room without meeting anyone's eyes.

Arriving there, he sank onto his bed, his fingers easily finding the small bottle hidden under the mattrace. A small sip resulted in a wonderful, sweetish burn in his throat, that calmed his nerves almost immediately – more so it was the association with the beloved remedy and how it never let him down when he needed to forget, needed to feel light when the world was pulling him down. It was this association, more than anything else, that made him relax now – it would take a lot more to actually take effect in a physical way.

His mind was racing now. His skin burnt with anger, with such hot rage for the man with the piercing blue eyes. Who did he think he was? Being the captain did not give him the right to be a monumental sadist. And what a fucking creep. Dean bet Smith had enjoyed this, all of this. Pulling out his cock in front of the whole crew. He probably had some kind of piss kink. For a short moment those full lips flickered through Dean's mind but he pushed the thought of that monster being attractive down with a big sip of his liquor.

He shook his head.

That asshole knew how to play this game well. Dean wondered how many times Smith had done this before. Another sip.

Smith probably thought he'd broken Dean, for good this time. Had he? _No_ , Dean thought to himself. _Ain't broken until I stop fighting._ Another sip.

That was it. He would not stop fighting. Captain Smith would keep playing his games, pulling one trick after another out of his sleeve, but how many could there be, right? How much worse could it get, worse than being pissed on in front of the whole crew?

Oh, fuck, the crew. They would never look at him the same. For a moment his stomach turned, flooding with dread at the thought of exiting through that door, walking out onto the deck and meeting the other mens' eyes ever again.

 _But that's exactly what he wants, ain't it?_ Dean thought to himself. _Smith wants me to give up, wants me to admit I've lost._

Therefore the best thing he could do was to not let him win. Carry defeat in his every step. Look into the other mens' eyes and demand respect from them. Carry himself just like before. Show Smith that he was nowhere near where he wanted him.

That's what he would do. So he'd start with what Smith hated most: unreasonable drinking.

 

„Aye aye, cap'n.“

With a stern nod, Captain Smith distanced himself from the sailor he'd just instructed. They were on course and the sea was smooth sailing today.

As the sun snuck out from beneath a few light clouds, Castiel couldn't help but smile to himself a little. _What a glorious day._ Taming Dean Winchester and the sun surfacing for the first time in days... It was like a godly sign.

Strolling along the ship, he watched his men work. Truly, some of them averted their eyes from him, especially the younger ones. Others simply carried themselves with more respect. Undoubtedly the punishment had been successful on many levels.

His smugness was interrupted, when a certain someone came strutting out of the cabin section. Dean Winchester, head held higher than ever. Of course the other men noticed, looking up, a murmur breaking out at the sight of the shamed sailor.

As he passed Smith, all he said was „Cap'n“ with a nearly bored look, as he made his way to his post. Castiel smelled the liquor on him. _A bit of Dutch courage, huh._ Slightly shaking his head, Smith turned around to watch him.

This one knew how to play the game. Once again Smith wondered how the Winchester had come to be like this... This cockiness, the self-importance. Who would raise their son to be this way?

He decided to wait. Wait it out, maybe it wouldn't take much for him to break – he knew the confidence was just a show. If necessary, Castiel would easily come up with another step in the plan, he knew he'd break Winchester at last, even if not today.

It tested his patience, for sure. As if nothing had happened, Winchester carried on, cockiness entering the room before he did, glasses filling faster than his mouth with words... and there were a lot of words. Watching him from afar, empty plate in front of him, Smith's thoughts trailed off into the land of possibilites... What would he do next? What was it that would break him, at last? Would the physical punishments not cut it? Or would he have to be harder on him? Was he really so immune to this public humiliation or would it just take a little more? Smith would've guessed the latter, as he'd seen how aghast the younger man had been this morning, how his mouth had opened and nothing had come out, how he knelt there, shaking, for minutes after everyone had left and started working. He had gotten under his skin, he'd just have to play his cards well to make it stick. He got up, the noise of the men's cheery tiredness fading as he walked out of the room.

 

It could have waited. It really could have. He thought it might take a while before he'd figure out his next step, the perfect plan. He didn't think Winchester would be stupid enough to provoke him like this, going full in again, knowing very well what the consequences would be.

He was just about done with the night rounds, checking up on the few crew members that were actually working now, when he found Dean Winchester, once again passed out on the floor.

He considered his options for a moment. It seemed to be smartest not to try anything big now; his next step would have to be carefully calculated. This man was not as easy as Smith had initially thought.

_Take him and shake him and try to awake him._

No, he would do it simple: wake him up, tell him to find his bed _now_ and deal with it tomorrow. Maybe he'd come to his senses. (A small part of him knew that was not going to be the case.)

He kicked the sailor's leg, but he did not stir. Kneeling down, Smith then grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, but the only reaction this elicited was a lazy shake of his head and a sleepy hum.

Castiel pushed down the thought of how pretty the Winchester looked in his sleep.

He tried a second time but when it didn't work either, he decided it was time for a harsher action.

For a few moments he stepped away to go and find a bucket, which he filled with sea water, ice cold to the touch. Stepping back over the sailor, he emptied it right into his face, of course immediately waking him up with a gasp.

„What in hell?!“ he exclaimed, taking a moment to orientate himself.

„I apologize sincerely, did I disturb your nap?“ Captain Smith asked, his voice heavy with sarcasm and yet sounding serious.

With eyes full of spite, Dean Winchester looked up at the captain.

„I will not tolerate this behaviour any longer. Go find your bed now,“ Smith added sternly.

„Is that so? I don't see you doin' anythin' about it,“ the sailor replied, eyes narrowing in challenge.

With a sigh Castiel decided being easy on him wasn't going to work. Neither would an impulsive punishment.

„If that's what you want – go get your things. You're sleeping out here from now on, until you understand what respect means. The fresh air might just help clear your head.“

Dean looked up at him, still an angry look in the lines of his face, but – to the captain's surprise, he got up without a word, and walked over to the cabins.

Was that it? It couldn't be. Captain Smith followed him.

If he had really believed the Winchester was going to follow his order, he knew now it had been ridiculous to do so. The younger man plopped down onto his bed, sighing contentedly.

„I said, gather your things, _now,_ “ Castiel growled.

 


	4. Give 'im a Taste of the Bosun's Rope-end

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Of course Dean can't keep his mouth shut. Smith will not tolerate it. Rough times call for rough measures... or something like that.
> 
> WARNINGS: Spanking, dub-con, tying him up, punishment, bdsm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy the lovely beginning of the smut. ;)

Dean didn't even look at Smith as he replied, „Bite me.“

„This is not a fight you want to start,“ Castiel said through gritted teeth as he stepped closer. Had the Winchester opened his eyes he'd have been at least a little intimitated.

„Oh, really?“ he just said, now glancing at Smith from beneath hooded eyelids. Then he slowly, almost lazily sat up, his eyes clear on his intent though – challenging. His words were still a bit of a lull, laced with alcohol. „What you gonna do, pull out your cock? What a great cap'n, can' even make your crew show ya respect unless you piss on someone.“

A strange smile crossed the captain's face just for a second. Then everything went very fast: he grabbed the younger sailor by his arm, turned him around roughly and had him pinned against the wall in seconds.

„You got that all wrong. See, I can make them respect me...“ His lips were now right next to the Winchester's ear, and the next phrase came out almost as a whisper.

„It's just more fun that way.“

At first, Dean had been shocked and frozen up, but now he wanted to fight back, as Castiel moved him over to the bed, taking off the neckerchief of his uniform, and using it to tie the Winchester's hands with it, then fastening them to the bedpost.

Dean was putting up a fight, but he had been taken by surprise and was still slower than usual... Dutch courage came with a few disadvantages as well.

„I told you this is not a fight you want to start,“ Castiel said as he arranged Dean so he was on his knees, ass high in the air, torso stretched out; then he pulled down his pants, just far enough to reveal his ass.

Dean heard the sound of a belt being undone. Then Castiel's hand wrapped around Dean's mouth.

„I like to keep my word.“

And with that a sharp smack landed on Dean's ass, unexpected and painful as hell. He screamed out but it was muffled by the captain's hand.

_Give 'im a taste of the bosun's rope-end_

A light red line was already starting to show. If Castiel didn't love that view...

Another slap landed on his behind, and as Castiel hit the same spot again and again, the pain increased with every time. His whole body had tensed up. The worst thing was that he had no idea when the belt would hit him, or how many times. All he could do was wait and hope it was going to be over quickly.

But then no more came. He waited, his muscles tense, but instead Castiel softly laid his hand on the Winchester's reddened ass cheek. The gentle touch brought mixed feelings to Dean's chest, as he relaxed the tiniest bit, and yet hated the man who was touching him.

„So... tell me, Dean,“ Dean realized this was the first time the captain had used his first name, „Have you learned your lesson yet?“ He lifted his hand off the younger man's mouth to let him speak.

„Go to hell,“ is all he replied. It was almost automatic, but he wouldn't have let Smith win like that. Never. If there was one thing he could do it was fight through. And he wouldn't stop now.

Just for a moment Castiel smiled, his hand still caressing the other's behind. His fingers trailed the increasingly red marks, and even ghosted over his tight hole.

„Well, I would've preferred to make it even anyway,“ he commented before bringing down the belt on the other ass cheek. This time he didn't wrap his hand around Dean's mouth and a scream filled the room. The second and the third spank did not elicit the same reaction, as he was obviously trying hard not to let it show how much it hurt.

Smith added a fourth one for good measures, leather hitting skin deliciously.

Dean had expected more. On one hand he was relieved that it seemed to be over, but now his head cleared and, no longer attacked with frequent bursts of pain, he couldn't ignore it...

 


	5. Hooray, and Up She Rises!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean can't deny his arousal. Smith shamelessly takes advantage of him.
> 
> WARNINGS: more bondage, edging, teasing, begging, humiliation, fucking, unprotected sex

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol honestly I just decided to ignore the fact that probably buttholes weren't clean in circumstances like that. (How did sailors wash all that time ago? like pretty sure they didn't have showers on board. ok that's not something i researched) Artistic freedom yay!  
> Enjoyyyyiyiy

He felt his hard cock hanging heavy between his legs, pushing against the material of his trousers.

_Hooray, and up she rises!_

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks, and more than anything shame and anger about what he was feeling. He hated this man! He wanted nothing more than to free himself from the constraints and push his fist into that stupid, pretty face. He felt like his body was simultaneously giving up and on fire, and he didn't know which he'd have preferred. What he did know: he was aroused, for whatever fucking reason, and the hand now slowly caressing his backside was not helping. All he could do was hope that Smith wouldn't notice. Of _course_ he noticed. He felt the captain's hand reaching around and rubbing against the bulge in his pants, evoking a small, suppressed moan from him.

„Aye, how does it feel to love something you hate so much?“ Smith asked him smugly. He was lying to himself if he thought he didn't know exactly what that felt like.

„Get off of me, you fuckin'-“ he started, but he was interrupted when the older man swiftly pulled down his trousers to reveal his aching cock and stroked it with firm movements.

„Ah,“ he breathed instead, his nerves electrifying all along his spine.

„You sure that's what you want?“ Castiel asked. He had been bent over him, and his own erection was now evident through his pants, hard against Dean's bare ass. His other hand had let go of the belt and instead a finger found his entrance, just lightly pushing in, adding to the sensations.

He then opened his own trousers with that hand, quickly returning the attention to Dean's ass, his cock now bare against his skin. He started rocking against him, a bit of friction really getting him going.

„You want me to stop?“ he asked and he knew Dean wouldn't be capable of forming words right now. His head was hung low, eyes closed and he was panting hard as Castiel kept stroking him hard.

Dean might have been more complex to tame, but physically he was such an easy tell. Castiel knew exactly what he needed, and he had him exactly where he wanted him...

There was still shame, embarrassment, anger boiling in Dean's chest, but it had all taken secondary seats, when Castiel's hand had started stroking him that way.

It was hard and steady and his mind was spinning now – he couldn't form coherent thoughts or phrases. And he was getting so close, so damn close... That's when Smith suddenly stopped, his hand letting go of Dean's aching cock, and even his fingers coming to a halt.

„Is that what you want?“

Dean had to swallow, the need in his core was unignorable, wound tight, in need of springing free. Oh, this asshole knew exactly what he was doing to him, bringing him that close and then simply stopping.

He hated to admit it, and he hated himself for it, but he wanted the man's hands back on him, stroking him like that, he wanted him to finish what he'd started.

„N-no,“ he finally said, voice very small and bitter.

„So you want me to continue?“ he asked, as if he wanted to be clear. „I think I'll need more convincing.“

It took Dean a moment to understand but then the anger came back to his chest. He wanted him to _beg_?! After all this, he wanted him to fucking _beg for it_?!

„Put your filthy hands back on me and finish what you started, asshole,“ he spat, his anger getting the best of him.

A sharp slap of Castiel's hand on his left ass cheek quickly shut him up.

„Is that how you're going to speak to me?“ he asked. „I thought you'd learned your lesson.“

His hand wrapped around Dean's length again, setting his nerves on fire. He stroked him once, then he stroked him twice.

„It's _sir_ for you. And I want you to tell me what it is you want from me. Respectfully.“

 _He wants me to beg, that's what he's asking for._ Dean thought bitterly, but the slow strokes of Castiel's hand were driving him crazy. He was too good at this, it was not fair. God, he wanted to come, and he wanted Castiel to make him come.

He swallowed down his pride and mind racing finally started speaking. „I- I need you to keep goin',“ he said.

„Not clear enough,“ Castiel stated.

Winchester sighed, trying hard to find words as he felt another slow stroke on his cock.

„I... I need to cum, please let me cum.“ He couldn't believe he'd just said _please_.

When Castiel didn't reply, Dean's mind raced to find something else to say that he could actually say without losing all of his dignity. But then he realized what the captain was waiting for. Clenching his jaw once more, he brought forth a small _sir_ , his whole stomach tensing in a way that made him feel like he'd just reached the lowest point.

„ _That's better_ ,“ Castiel just whispered in his ear and then he picked up right where he had left off. Dean felt sick, but the pleasure he was receiving soon took over all his other feelings, which were just darkly looming right underneath.

Castiel stroked him quickly, yet intensely, and his fingers found his backside again. Dean felt him spit on his hole, and then work in a second finger. His heart quickened as he realised Cas was going to fuck him, but he was constantly distracted with the way he was working his cock, now getting him closer and closer to the edge.

Castiel had worked in a third finger now, but he couldn't wait any longer. He'd have the younger sailor falling apart before he'd even pushed inside, and that was not his plan. Adding a bit more spit, he aligned his length, now pushing in slowly while still keeping his wrist working on Dean's cock. He was getting close.

He was a bit more than half-way in – and oh _god_ , Dean was tight –, when he pulled out again, to then push back in. A few of those more shallow pushes were necessary and then finally he'd pushed in completely, tight heat welcoming his hard cock. He quickly started picking up speed, no longer caring about Dean adjusting – he had done what he could. He soon found the right angle, hitting Dean's prostate several times, he could tell by the way Dean started to spasm.

Castiel wouldn't last long either, he knew now, but he could hold on a little longer, while Dean was already starting to fall apart.

He had already been close. The pain of Castiel's cock pushing in so soon at first added to the pleasure and then took over. But when he started hitting his prostate, all thoughts slipped from his mind, replaced by white stars, and heavy moans. Castiel was now thrusting in and out quickly, yet deeply, the sound of flesh hitting flesh obscenely filling the air around them.

An extra strong stroke had Dean falling over the edge and coming all over Cas' hand, his stomach and the sheets. It lasted quite long as Castiel kept fucking him, relentlessly, really. He couldn't hold back the moan as he came, and before he could stop himself, along with it Castiel's name. He bit his tongue as quickly as he realized and all that fell out was a croaked _Cas_ , before he suppressed it and let his orgasm wash through him.

Castiel kept pushing in and out, chasing his own sweet release. As Dean's hole started contracting with his orgasm, deliciously pumping his cock, he knew it wasn't going to be long.

Dean's body had relaxed now, so Cas' hand moved to hold him up against him, as he fucked him over and over again.

Soon he felt it coming, his nerves standing on end and then finally he reached his release as well, hot cum spurting out of his length and filling Dean's hole to the brim. As he came down from it, he was breathing hard against Dean's backside. For a moment he stayed there, then, once his orgasm had faded, he pulled out, and stood again. Pulling up his trousers, putting on his belt, he watched Dean on the bed, his used, spent body now relaxing on the sheets, his back covered in a thin sheet of sweat, his ass marked red and filled with cum, if only he could have kept him like this forever. Once he'd adjusted his clothes, he reached over to untie Dean's hands.

His hands simply sank against the sheets. His stare went out into nothingness it seemed, as his chest was still heaving heavily. He didn't look at Castiel or say anything. It seemed Smith had fucked the cockiness right out of him.

He put on his neckerchief and exited the cabin with one last comment: „I'll see you tomorrow morning, Winchester."

It wasn't much, but the way he said it - so casually, as if he wasn't even half as affected as Dean by what had just happened between them; as if this had just been some kind of business talk... for some reason Dean hated it. But he couldn't even really think about that now.

Castiel felt quite content as he walked across the ship to get a breath of fresh air. Not only had he had the best orgasm in a long time, he'd also definitely rectified this sailor's behaviour. He'd tamed Dean Winchester.

 

_That's what to do with a drunken sailor._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around, I hope you enjoyed reading this - man, I enjoyed writing it a lot. It's a very new dynamic for me to write. And honestly... For anyone who's sad this is over so soon: I am like 99% sure I'm gonna write a second series in the drunken sailor verse because I just like it so much. I kept coming up with backstories and stuff, and I would just love to explore where this dynamic could go... so I hope you'll be around for that! Let me know if that's a thing you'd like to read and if you enjoyed reading this, please give me feedback etc. :) Lots of love!


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